


Board Games

by Nightmaidens



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Doctor Who References, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Plot Twists, Short One Shot, cute little old lady, ish?, lonely old lady, this is really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmaidens/pseuds/Nightmaidens
Summary: "You accidentally run over a lonely old lady. She considers pressing charges, but agrees not to as long as you spend two hours a week playing board games with her. It soon becomes apparent that he hasn't had an ordinary life..."prompt from: writing.prompt.s via Instagram





	Board Games

The first day you meet her, you feel terrible- truly awful- but she merely smiles at you, a broad, toothy grin too bright for someone he age. You’d expect her to be worn down, to tire easily as the day wears on, but you find she can easily outdo you in just about anything. Scrabble, cards, you name it, she's beat you at it. It’s the days over tea and scrabble that you find most interesting. These are the days she tells you about her adventures in far away lands. You chuckle to yourself, because surely she’s just a batty old woman.

Nevertheless, you find yourself enthralled by her impeccable storytelling skills. Her eyes twinkle with a lively mirth, unsullied by the the passage of time. She’s tired, you can tell, but it is tampered down by her evident desire for adventure-by her quaking laughter that begins at the corners of her mouth and settles in the crinkles at the corners of her emerald eyes. Some days, she takes you by the hand to her back garden to see the sunflowers grow. They’re her favourite, she tells you in a hushed voice, because they remind her of a wonderful but tortured soul she once knew.

Your days are lightened with her are lightened by stories of a raggedy man, traveling in a beaten blue box through time and space. It’s a shame, you think to yourself, that she doesn’t doesn’t have any grandchildren. You’re certain that they’d love her stories.

It’s become the highlight of your week, really. Those two hours spent in the cozy pocket of her house, in between throw pillows and lace doilies. On days she feels up to it, she makes shortbread biscuits for you. They’re bloody awful but you fake a smile and eat them anyways- after all you run her over with your godforsaken Honda (damn thing’s a big pile of shite but it’s not like you have much of a choice in the matter.)  On her best days, she’s a lively bird, puttering about and insisting to fix everything for you- your tea, your hair, the fact that you’re so _painfully_ single- and on her worst, she smiles just the same but you’ve begun to see just how tired she is, in the, mindless way she twists her wedding band round her finger. You wonder where he is, but don't dare ask.

One day, over tea and those terrible shortbreads, you ask for her surname. Surely she’s had some significance, some blip in the ever-fading light of fame. She starts, surprised by your question, though not entirely uncomfortable.

“Pond, dear,” she says with a private smile. “Amelia Pond is a name you’ll do well to remember.”

And you do.

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this prompt and this is IMMEDIATELY what I thought of. Yes, I know it's short and shitty but I had this idea and just couldn't leave it alone. ALSO YES I KNOW SHE MARRIES RORY BUT DO YOU REALLY THINK SHE'S TAKE HIS LAST NAME?  
> No, I think not.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated :) <3


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